Independence Day
by RingsAkhaten
Summary: A prequel-and timey wimey sequel-to Hello and D'artagnan. With age comes wisdom and reflection. Twelve/Angela Thirteen/Angela Second chapter incoming soon.


It was that moment. _The_ moment and each time the doors opened, you never quite knew what to expect. In her vision's periphery, Angela saw the Time Lord's hand reach downward to flip at the switch, and as always, her heart raced and her stomach threatened rebellion.

They could literally be anywhere and at any time. Beyond the doors could be the light of another sun, the cold darkness of space, or some period in her own planet's past. There were new beings, astonishing civilizations and impossible technologies and an adventurer to guide her on the way, but, in this moment, and in _every_ moment, Angela was simply afraid.

She was no hero, she hated travel and she wasn't even particularly curious. In this moment, she was what she had always been, both to herself and everyone around her. She was a profound disappointment.

He didn't say so-which was unusual for the Doctor-but there was a certain weight and a terse impatience in his actions and his gaze. Now, as he stood, staring down at her from the console, his body seemed to bristle with a gathering aggravation, and as always, in this moment, Angela wanted nothing more than to simply be away.

Stiffly, jerkily, her hand rose to press against the door. A breath passed and with her eyes tight and closed, she pushed it free from the frame.

Light, glorious and golden touched at her eyelids, then a warm breeze, the dampness of a mist and the fresh scent of rain. Then, wet grass and moist earth, the rustling of leaves and the chirping of birds.

Her eyes opened to glorious blue and bright green, a thin grey line on the horizon, drops of moisture sparkling in the sun. A winding stretch of asphalt passing through rolling hills, rich field and forests, all glowing in the afternoon sun, and beside it, a stretch of track and dark brown ties, trailing outward beyond the reach of her sight.

A dog barked; a Ford car passed by, then another, and in the distance the sound of a train. It was home, _home_ or something very like it. A good, old regular afternoon and in a good old regular place, and now, Angela's eyes moistened with tears of joy.

"Is that fertilizer? It smells like fertilizer." A dark, crisp shape shot across her eye line and a sinewy finger jutted outward. Her eyes followed its length to a tall, white metallic stack and heavy, shining pipe rising up over the treeline on the horizon.

"Yeah, it's fertilizer." The Time Lord declared again, and somehow he was at once both annoyed and triumphant, his dark eyes glittering, his lean face scowling. "That's a plant."

The observation seemed acutely relevant to him and for a moment he paused theatrically, his eyebrows doing some sort of odd war dance as he tapped at his sonic glasses.

By now, Angela could read all the signs. An epic effluent of hypocrisy was threatening and there was only one way to stop it.

"We can't all have a nice spaceship and endless food. Some people actually have to grow it."

Turning from him before he could speak again, Angela's eyes were captured by something bright in the distance, standing out against the green of the grass. Without further word, she began walking toward it and after a moment, he fell in behind her.

"This is Earth, by the way." he called out after a few awkward moments of silence and as they passed the gates of the plant. Ahead, along the narrow, country road, small houses and gravel driveways dotted the fields, and along the sides of the asphalt, bright banners of red, white and blue.

Smiling, Angela's pace quickened and the Doctor, who had paused briefly, gazing upwards at the plant in contemplation, then shouted after her, rushing to match her speed.

"Is that a flag? Why are there flags?"

Now, it was her turn to point and his gaze followed. In a clearing at the side of road and the tracks, a small gathering of people had collected beneath a gazebo, some meandering around filled tables, others chatting, and some dancing as a small band played. There were flags and banners everywhere and the scent of hotdogs and burgers filled the air.

The Doctor's scowled deepened as Angela's smiled broadened.

"It's a holiday! Veterans or Memorial Day, maybe even the fourth of July! Come on!" and for a moment, reflexively, she reached for his hand. Remembering at the last of seconds, she arrested the gesture as the Time Lord, his eyes widening, his veins bulging, suddenly turned around in circle, staring about him.

"Barbershop." he declared as she turned to gaze at it, then, "Drug store," and then, with an expansive gesture, "Police station. This is Mayberry. We're landed at Mayberry."

Passerby began to point and stare and if Angela didn't speak now, there was about to be another _moment._

"You know those moments when I want to punch you in the mouth, but I love you anyway?"

His thin lips parted and his gaze softened and maybe, just for once, he was actually _listening._

"We're having one now."

They were just too different. Too incompatible and maybe it just wasn't worth it. Maybe he wasn't worth it. He would never just listen and he would never understand but somehow that wasn't what Angela was saying.

"You don't have to come. You know me, short attention span. Ten minutes max, and I'm bored. I'll see you then."

She left him at the gazebo and in that moment, she had no intention of ever returning.


End file.
